


Breathing

by lolzilean



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-12 22:00:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7950778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lolzilean/pseuds/lolzilean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a doctor is difficult. Not because of the lives you lose, but because of how numbing it becomes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathing

First, you get your coat. I don’t care if your forgot where you left it, you find it. Calm yourself down. Take a deep breath. Look at yourself in the mirror, if there was a lot of blood you need to ask someone to quickly run to the basement to get you a new set of scrubs. You put on your coat and go into the bathroom. Force yourself to look in the mirror, show the practiced look of failure. Say it. Use the mate’s name, use the recently-departed’s name. You cannot adjust this in any way.

Say it out loud. How loudly? Loudly enough. If the delivery takes less than five times, you will not do it right. You’re rushing. Take your time. Deep breath.

After the bathroom, do nothing before you go to her. You don’t make a phone call, you don’t talk to the medical students, you do not put in an order. Never make her wait. She is his mate.

When you get inside the room, you will know who the mate is. Trust me, you’ll know. Shake her paw, tell her who you are. If there are more people and you have more time, shake everyone’s hand. You will know if there’s time. Never stand. If there are no seats left in the waiting room, the couches have arms.

You’ll have to decide about whether you will ask what she already knows. If you were the one to tell her that he’d been shot, you have already done part of it, but you’re not done yet. You’re going to do it now. Never make her wait. She is his mate. Explode it to the world. Yes, you have to. 

“Ms. Hopps. I have terrible, terrible news. Nicholas died today.”

Then you wait.

You will not stand up. You can leave yourself in the heaviness of your breath or the racing of your breath or the grass stain on your shoe, but you will not stand up. You’re here for her. She is his mate.

If there are other mammals in the room and they have punched the wall or broken the chair, do not be worried. Do not be panic. The one that punched the wall or broke the chair will be better than the one who looks down and refuses to cry. The one who punched the wall or broke the chair will be much easier than the sister who looks up and closes her eyes as they fill.

Security is outside, ready to come in at any loud noise. No, you don’t have to tell them. They know. It’s alright, they will be kind. If the chair is broken beyond disrepair, it’s all right. If he does not break your chair, you stay. If he does, you find another place to sit. You are here for the mate and you have more to do. You’re job’s not over yet.

She asks you what you know. You do not lie. Do not say he was murdered or he was killed. Yes, I know that he was, but that’s not what you say. He died, he wasn’t killed; that’s the part you say, because that’s the part you know. If she asks if he felt pain, you must be very careful. If not, assure her very quickly, no hesitation. Otherwise, you do not lie. The pain is over now, you say. Do not ever say he was lucky, that he didn’t feel pain. He was not lucky. She is not lucky. Don’t make that face, the face of empty pittyness. The depth of the stupidity of the things you will say sometimes is unimaginable.

Deep breath.

Before you leave you break her heart one more time. “No, I’m so sorry, but you cannot see him. There are strict rules when a person dies this way and the police have to take him first. We cannot let you in. I’m so sorry.”

Never say “the body.” It’s not a body, it is her mate. You want to tell her that you know that he was hers. But she knows that, and she does not need for you to tell her. Instead, you will give her time and come back in case she has questions. If she has no questions, you do not give her the answers to the questions she has not asked. Her heart is broken enough.

She will start crying. The other mammals in the room will try to comfort her. They will fail. You’ve done all you can.

You notice the stain of red on the mate’s paws as she covers her eyes to stifle her tears. You look at your own paws, noting a small, imperceptive spot of red. His blood is on both of your hands. Both of you tried everything you could. She’ll never know that ultimately, it was you who failed. Her success brought him to the hospital minutes sooner, increasing his chances of survival. 

She succeeded. You failed. Regardless of what you say or do, she’ll always remember the deep stain of red on her paws, but completely overlook the tiny speck on yours. She’ll always think of tiny ways she could have extended his life by seconds. You’ll add it to a large list of minor mistakes with grave consequences. She was his mate.

When you leave the room, do not yell at the medical student who has a question. When you get home, do not yell at your husband. If he left his socks on the floor again today, it is all right.

Deep breath.

**Author's Note:**

> This is me attempting to get back in the swing of things. I've been pretty down lately so I think it's fitting to write a story that's down. I have rough outlines for where I want to take my other stories, so you can look forward to that. I just want to up my mood a bit before I come out with extended bouts of fluff :P.
> 
> The article that this story came from is about a doctor in PA and her sense of routine in telling a mother that her child has died. Something that is so difficult to so many of us can become routine to someone who does it so often. It struck a chord within me and I wanted to write about it. It's amazing how a profession can change your emotions so heavily. It's extremely well written, and you should definitely read it.
> 
> http://www.nytimes.com/2016/09/04/opinion/sunday/how-to-tell-a-mother-her-child-is-dead.html

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [See What I've Become](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7964716) by [KohGeek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KohGeek/pseuds/KohGeek)




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